The Paths We Choose
"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments," writes Frederick Buechner. And I go to him because he can say it so much the better. Remembering back to a youth convention, I can still remember when I felt an need to devote my life to young people. In my narrow mindset I knew I was "called" to be a youth pastor.
When Northwest College accepted me, I gladly went off to learn. Enthusiastically, I devoured all that I could, wanting nothing less than greatness. Faces of students I worked with still linger, and sometimes haunt my memory. Moving deeper into the program, I felt a sense of restlessness that I could not make sense of. God had called me, but why didn't this feel right. It didn't feel like that day at youth convention--no burning desire, no fulfillment. The typical youth group meeting bored me, and though I could pen a terrific sermon, the relentless get-t0-know-you games gave me little pleasure. Yet I pressed on towards the goal which Jesus had clearly set out before me. Had I only payed attention to the boredom and pain of it, perhaps I'd have a bit more money in my bank account.
Three years into the program, I realized that the path I had chosen was not the one for me. Though it had appeared prosperous and much less daunting than anything else I had on the table at the time, I was uneasy. So, like many college students, I switched my focus to an emerging and urgent feeling. As I finished my Youth Ministry degree, I began work on a teaching certificate. I was happy, content, and passionate. I still am.
Looking back this past weekend at some of my old Youth Ministry material, it was completely obvious that I was on the wrong path. All of the inventories on spiritual gifts showed a tendency towards teaching. All of the sermon's I wrote came across more as passionate classroom lectures than bible-thumping doctrinal works. And yet, knowing now that I should listen to my life, I still find it difficult in the midst of my life to cup my ear to the shell that is life and hear it for what it is. Fathomless. Mysterious. Boring. Exciting. And quite possibly on my best day: Holy. Open your ears with me.
When Northwest College accepted me, I gladly went off to learn. Enthusiastically, I devoured all that I could, wanting nothing less than greatness. Faces of students I worked with still linger, and sometimes haunt my memory. Moving deeper into the program, I felt a sense of restlessness that I could not make sense of. God had called me, but why didn't this feel right. It didn't feel like that day at youth convention--no burning desire, no fulfillment. The typical youth group meeting bored me, and though I could pen a terrific sermon, the relentless get-t0-know-you games gave me little pleasure. Yet I pressed on towards the goal which Jesus had clearly set out before me. Had I only payed attention to the boredom and pain of it, perhaps I'd have a bit more money in my bank account.
Three years into the program, I realized that the path I had chosen was not the one for me. Though it had appeared prosperous and much less daunting than anything else I had on the table at the time, I was uneasy. So, like many college students, I switched my focus to an emerging and urgent feeling. As I finished my Youth Ministry degree, I began work on a teaching certificate. I was happy, content, and passionate. I still am.
Looking back this past weekend at some of my old Youth Ministry material, it was completely obvious that I was on the wrong path. All of the inventories on spiritual gifts showed a tendency towards teaching. All of the sermon's I wrote came across more as passionate classroom lectures than bible-thumping doctrinal works. And yet, knowing now that I should listen to my life, I still find it difficult in the midst of my life to cup my ear to the shell that is life and hear it for what it is. Fathomless. Mysterious. Boring. Exciting. And quite possibly on my best day: Holy. Open your ears with me.
posted by Mr. McNamar at 1:28 PM
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